


Let Them Eat Cake

by HannibalTrash (NotQuiteLuke)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotQuiteLuke/pseuds/HannibalTrash
Summary: I watched the first episode of the new Great British Bake Off, and wrote a fic where these two watch it, followed by cake, little bit of angst in between. It's mostly just happy, established relationship stuff. Maybe I will write more cake based fic. Maybe I will disappear for months again.





	Let Them Eat Cake

“If you’re so clever, why don’t you make one, huh?” Will huffed as Hannibal interrupted once again to point out one of the many ways that the contestant on the screen had screwed up. It was a regular Tuesday evening, and they were curled up together on Will’s couch, the warm bodies of his pack littering the floor. They were used to the stream of chatter by now, filling the previously quiet evening hours.  
“A swiss roll? I will if you like,” Hannibal didn’t shrug. He didn’t need to. So quietly confident in his culinary abilities that he didn’t need to show off like that. “What do you have in the cupboard?”  
“You know full well there’s nothing in my cupboard you could turn into a passable cake.”  
“Sounds like a challenge.”  
Will tilted his head back onto Hannibal’s shoulder, fixing him with a look that said ‘No, it’s impossible.’ It was a look Hannibal knew well. It was a look he loved. It was a look that, more often than not, ended in Will eating his words. Hannibal raised his eyebrows.  
“Don’t look at me like that.”  
Hannibal looked away, barely suppressing a smile.  
“Don’t not look at me like that.”  
Hannibal couldn’t help but smile, fixing his eyes on the screen where a woman was struggling with her ganache. There was a moment of silence. Will knew how this would play out, and was mentally wondering how old the flour he had in the cupboard had been there. Hannibal had told him a million times to throw out old ingredients, but flour didn’t get old, did it? He probably had some baking powder, maybe some hot chocolate powder. There was definitely sugar. Eggs? Possibly. They tended to spend most of their time at Hannibal’s, honestly. Neither one of them entirely willing to give up their homes, they tried to make it an even split between the two places, but the lure of Hannibal’s kitchen was usually irresistible.  
“Alright. Go see what you can find then.” Will made a shooing motion with his hand, making absolutely no effort to move away from his boyfriend and let him stand up.  
“Alright, get up then.” Hannibal laughed.  
Will grumbled, but disentangled himself and pouted as Hannibal got up and headed to the kitchen. A few of the dogs lifted their heads to watch him go by. They knew as well as Will did that when Hannibal went to the kitchen, he returned with something tasty that they usually got to taste.  
Will rearranged himself on the sofa, getting comfy again on his own. He absolutely refused to give in and help Hannibal locate whatever he might need since it was pretty much a certainty that Hannibal knew his kitchen better than he did at this point, he cooked in it so rarely these days.  
The dogs settled back down and Will got only minorly invested in the fates of the sponges onscreen, shaking his head in mild despair at the realisation that someone forgot to turn their oven on. Hannibal worked quietly, deciding against using Will’s electric mixer in favour of good old fashioned elbow grease to cream together the butter and sugar. As far as Will knew, there wasn’t a set of scales anywhere in his kitchen so unless Hannibal had a travel scale, this cake was going to be made by eyeballing it. He wouldn’t be surprised if it went off without a hitch regardless of the presence of scales, such was his confidence in Hannibal’s ability.  
Eventually, the bakers on screen said goodbye until next week and Will hauled himself off his sofa and padded to the kitchen to see Hannibal shut the oven door and check his watch. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, his face utterly betraying him as a look of awe mixed with pure adoration made its way to his eyes as Hannibal turned to face him.  
“I’ll give it fifteen minutes and see how it goes,” Hannibal smiled.  
Will crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s so easy to trick you into cooking for me.”  
“You call that a trick?” Hannibal smiled, resting his hands casually on Will’s hips. “You asked me nicely and I obliged.”  
“Some would say I standoffishly accused you of being incapable of something, and you were determined to prove me wrong.” Will settled his head on Hannibal’s shoulder.  
“Some would be lacking the interpretation skills I possess.”  
Will smiled, lifting his head and looking him in the eye. “And that’s why I love you.”

~~

The time passed quickly in a haze of frankly disgusting displays of affection. The kitchen filled with the smell of chocolate baking and one by one the pack were tempted to get up and start sniffing around. It was the nose of Winston nudging Will’s shin that prompted the pair to separate.  
“Has it been fifteen minutes?” Will asked, slightly embarrassed that his dog essentially had to act as a chaperone.  
Hannibal checked his watch. “It’s been twenty.”  
They shared a smile before Hannibal stepped away, taking up a tea towel and opening the oven. He poked the sponge with a skewer and nodded his satisfaction, carefully taking the tray of cake out of the oven and setting it on the side.  
“I really must buy you a pair of oven gloves.” Hannibal turned his back to the counter, brandishing the towel which really had seen better days.  
Will had bigger concerns. “Where the hell did you find that paper?” He pointed to the tin, lined perfectly with baking parchment.  
Hannibal smiled. “You know I’ve been slowly stocking your kitchen with essentials, why wouldn’t I provide you with baking paper?”  
“But, where did you keep it? Why haven’t I seen it? Have you built a secret passage out of here to some secret kitchen storage bunker for cake emergencies?”  
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Hannibal joked, genuinely grinning at Will’s complete bafflement.  
“Secret kitchen bunker it is, then. I’ll find it one day.”  
Hannibal turned and opened a cupboard which previously contained only out of date sauce packets, noodles and a very sad looking bulb of garlic. It was now nicely organised and featured several of Hannibal’s essentials – a full spice and herb rack, baking paper, foil, string and a selection of utensils of which Will only recognised a garlic press.  
“Oh my god,” Will was incredulous but also clearly on the verge of laughter. “You could have told me! What would I have done if I was in desperate need of potentially rotten garlic!? It would have been a complete disaster!”  
Hannibal laughed, closing the cupboard quietly behind him. “There’s garlic in there, just not the foul dusty thing you had.”  
Will scowled. He liked dusty garlic. “You should have told me, though. Like, make yourself at home by all means but...” He trailed off, his brain quickly scanning through all the ways Hannibal had displaced his things, or replaced them with something better. “You’re quietly replacing my life with yours.”   
Hannibal was taken aback slightly. He hadn’t thought of his actions as anything other than quiet expressions of his love. He saw the hurt in Will’s face and his heart sank. “Will, please, that’s not what it is.”  
“Isn’t it? The new sofa was nice, until you decided the dogs couldn’t sleep on it. The gradual restocking of my kitchen from my usual cheap shit to all this needlessly pricey bullshit. It’s like you’re embarrassed by how unrefined and unsophisticated I am.”  
“That couldn’t be further than the truth,” Hannibal spoke quietly. “I just want you to be comfortable. I want the best for you, Will.”  
“I don’t want the best! I want shitty noodles and questionable garlic that doesn’t need to be pressed. I want a sofa coated with dog hair at all times and I want to challenge you to make a swiss roll without fucking baking paper that you smuggled in without my knowledge! What else have you done to infiltrate my house, huh? Am I gonna come home one day to gilded pillowcases?”  
“Of course not. Will, please.”  
“No! Fuck your kitchen bunker.” He turned and stormed back to the living room. The dogs reluctantly stopped eyeing the cake on the side and traipsed after him. Hannibal was left alone in the kitchen, with his perfectly baked chocolate sponge.

Hannibal stood, alone, for a few moments. It had never occurred to him that his gifts could be interpreted in such a way, or if it had occurred to him he had assumed that Will would know they were given with love. Love, and occasionally necessity. Will’s old sofa had been so old it sagged terribly, ruining Will’s already questionable posture. He just wanted his beloved to enjoy proper back support and, if he got an excuse to give Will something to remind him of him whenever he came back home, all the better for it. 

He removed the sponge from the tin, leaving it to cool on another sheet of baking paper, which now felt slightly treacherous. He’d promised a swiss roll, though, and a swiss roll he would deliver. He whipped the cream with perhaps a little more aggression than necessary, but it soon formed soft peaks and was ready to be spread across the now cooled sponge. 

~~ 

Hannibal drew a blank when it came to potential sauces. He hoped the cream contained within the sponge would be enough, though in a way he thought the simplicity might be welcome. It was strange cooking without his usual flourishes that always betrayed his incessant planning when it came to meal time. He cut a slice for Will, dug a fork out of the cutlery drawer and padded through to the sitting room, the plate held out in front of him. Will had surrounded himself with his dogs, who had happily jumped up onto the couch.   
“Did someone order a swiss roll?”   
Will looked up, trying very hard not to let his face betray how bad he felt for accusing Hannibal of anything. He took the plate and held it in his lap, not moving to take a bite yet. He knew he should say something, but nothing really seemed to be coming out of his mouth.   
“I wouldn’t change you for the world, Will.” Hannibal broke the silence. “Not a thing. I’m sorry if my actions seemed otherwise.”   
“I know,” Will spoke quietly, not looking up. “I’m sorry.”   
“You’re right though, we need to find some middle ground between my pricey bullshit and your dog hair covered garlic.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to meet Will’s gaze as he raised his eyes from the cake in front of him. Will smiled. “It’s your couch, cover it with dog hair as you please. I had no right to tell you how to do things in your own home.”   
“No, it’s your home too.” Will blurted. “If this is serious, it should be your home too.”   
It was Hannibal’s turn to smile, and he perched on the one edge of the couch not currently occupied by Will or any of his dogs. “I can’t help but notice that I have encroached upon your home far more than you have upon mine, though.”   
“That’s because your place is furnished with anything I’d ever need! What could I bring to yours that you don’t already have? A dedicated team of people to make the place messy after your cleaner’s been round?”   
“If you like.” Hannibal’s voice had that tone it sometimes got. The tone that usually denoted absolute and utter sincerity, usually in the face of a flippant comment. The tone that Will knew meant he didn’t care about anything but his love’s happiness.   
“You say that, but you’d never be able to find the right knife. It would always be somewhere stupid like in the freezer.” Will smirked.   
“Then I will make do with a different knife.” Hannibal shrugged. “None of it matters as long as I have you.”   
Will was silent for a moment. “You’ve said ‘I love you’ before, but I never thought you’d choose me over kitchen essentials.”   
“What use is a kitchen without someone you love to share your food with?”   
Will remembered the dessert on his lap. His dogs were too well trained to have wholesale stolen it from him, but there wasn’t a canine eye trained anywhere but the plate. Their faces went from hopeful to downright pleading as he cut a mouthful and speared it on the tines of the fork. He held it out to Hannibal, who graciously accepted it.   
“How is it?”   
“Try it yourself.”   
Will did.   
“Definitely worth having my home infiltrated.”


End file.
